


The Mark of an Intelligent Race

by Cloudlb



Category: DCU, Smallville
Genre: Cats, Clark Kent/Lex Luther Implied, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudlb/pseuds/Cloudlb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark is a cat person (and I am too). Found ficlet based on the "Superman rescues cats" trope. Slash-if-you-squint. Un beta'd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mark of an Intelligent Race

_"Why do people keep any pets? Well, I understand dogs and I guess cats kill mice, but why snakes and hamsters? Why keep turtles?"_

_". . . It could be that humans are pack animals. As we got civilized, the need for a pack disappeared but not the desire. If you live out in the woods with no one else around, you get lonely, sometimes even loony. Even living in the city, without family or friends, you get alienated."_

_"Get a pet, instant pack. But why only humans? You'd think that it was a good thing, other animals would do it. . . . Do you suppose that's a mark of an intelligent race—that any aliens we find will have pets too?"_

_"Aliens? I told you not to watch those TV shows. They're all made up. They'll rot your brain."_

From "Alien Trace" by Wen Spencer

***

Arguably the most famous photograph of Superman was one of the many taken by Jimmy Olsen. It shows Superman poised to land on a suburban sidewalk, just two feet above the ground. The composition of the photo is superb, capturing the suggestion of movement in the alien's posture and the fluidity of his cape, as well as the girl's arms as they reach up to him. But what really makes this photo memorable, out of all the pictures taken of the alien, is the sweetness of the subject matter and the expressions on the faces. Superman's face is tender, relaxed into an unfamiliar—almost human—mould as he looks down at what he carries in his arms. The visage of the young girl, Tabeesha Walker, shines with joy and gratitude through the tear tracks.

The focus of all this tenderness and joy, Hermione, the small gray tabby kitten cradled so tenderly in Superman's arms, merely looks frightened out of her wits.

*** 

When he was little, Clark didn't understand why he reacted to certain things so strongly. Movies, for instance. His favorite movie of all time was "E.T. The Extraterrestrial" Even before he discovered the truth about his origins, the story of the stranded alien searching for a way to go home seemed to speak to something in his heart. He thrilled to the scenes of the boys flying on their bikes, and cringed at the callous treatment by the faceless government men. For weeks after seeing it, he would sneak around laying out candies in the hope that an E.T. would visit - but no one ever did. His least favorite movie, however, was The Terminator. Not because it was scary, but because of the dogs. The dogs always reacted in a terminator's presence, barking and growling at the unnatural thing in their midst. Just like they reacted to Clark.

Even though dogs didn't seem to like him, Clark loved all animals, which was a good thing growing up on a farm. Later in life, after he had received the gift of Babel and was able to speak all earth languages, he found he could communicate well with animals, too, even dogs. However, the fierce and furry felines of all sizes were what he truly adored. Simply put, Clark was a cat person.

Clark was fascinated by cats, big and small. There were always a few barn cats kept at the farm to ward off rodents, and Clark would spend hours chasing and playing with them. One of his earliest memories was cuddling a small, black and white kitten. He remembered the warm feel of it against his skin, and the soft rumble of its purr. One day it simply disappeared, and it wasn't until many years later that Clark realized he must have somehow hurt it—loved it too much, hugged it too hard. A few years later, when he had gained a measure of control, his parents were willing to try again, and gifted him with a orange and white kitten for his seventh birthday. That kitten, whose name was Ranger (after the Power Rangers—Clark's favorite TV show), was his friend and companion until Clark left for college.

Clark was unable to keep pets for a few years after that while he was living in various small dorm rooms and apartments. His schedule, too, after he started to add regular patrols over the skies of Metropolis, prohibited him from caring for a cat himself. Nevertheless, he befriended felines wherever he could. He "adopted" a lion pride in Kenya and romped with the cubs whenever he could. He volunteered at a Bengal cat sanctuary in Georgia, helping to care for a large number of animals which had been given up by their owners after a few too many scratches, bites, and sprayings.

And always, there were the rescues. He discovered that his hearing seemed to be attuned to sounds of distress, particularly of the young, small, and weak. This meant that he was always hearing children crying. And cats. Oh, those cats! How they climbed. Funny thing is that cats' claws are designed only to go up, not down, regardless of Newtonian physics.

Pampered urban pets, escaped from their owners' homes and unused to fending for themselves, were especially prone to getting stranded up there in the treetops, precariously clinging to branches and meowing pitifully. A typical rescue conducted by city fire and rescue personnel had all the elements of a farce, because usually the cat simply went further up and further in, as if obeying Aslan's feline exhortations. Such rescues presented no obstacle to Superman, of course, who simply flew up to where the poor kitty was cowering and scooped it up. Invulnerability meant he didn't have to be concerned with the scratches and bites inflicted by scaredy cats, unlike normal rescuers. X-ray vision meant he could almost always see exactly where some little frightened feline had gotten itself stuck in a house, a drain, or other small space. He even participated in a special episode of "Animal Planet Rescues," earning the Animal Planet the largest ratings in its history.

As he grew older and his life settled into a routine, he started to acquire a few of these poor rescuees. He was able to afford a modest house in one of the old neighborhoods of Metropolis, and made friends with a few people who could care for his critters in an emergency. There were always too many cats which were abandoned, abused, or hoarded, and over the years he provided shelter for a few of these, and found homes for those he couldn't take in. Clark's life was a lonely one, because he couldn't let himself get too close to any human. To compensate, perhaps, he had Nibs, a grey tabby with white spots who had been burned and pushed out of a moving car, who wouldn't eat anything but tuna and dog food. There was Ophelia, a deaf blue-eyed white cat who had been abandoned in a dumpster. Ophelia was terribly clingy, and followed Clark around the house to keep him in sight at all time; and Jelly, a feisty and battered one-eyed, one-legged tomcat who had been dropped off at the animal shelter to die, and who always sought the high ground.

And then there was Apollo. Apollo was Clark's number one cat, given to Superman by a grateful breeder who almost lost her prize queen to an evil sycamore. Apollo was a red point neuter Colorpoint Shorthair. For some reason, Clark always had a soft spot for the red and white ones like his childhood pet Ranger; but Apollo was as far removed from Ranger's mundane earthiness as a Lamborghini was from a pickup. He was elegant and aloof, with a coat so short and fine it was almost as if he were hairless. He had piercing, intelligent blue eyes, with a voice which always demanded to be heard—and obeyed. Clark didn't know why, but Apollo represented the epitome of elegance and beauty to him. Maybe it was the sleekness of his fur, maybe it was the classy cream coat with its red markings.

Or maybe the Universe and the Gods of Krypton were trying to tell him something.

**Author's Note:**

> Found this on my computer--I think it was going to be part of a longer fic, but I don't think I ever posted it.


End file.
